Marrok

Chapter 1

Marrok Tobias Baine sat down on the crumbling wall to catch his breath and compose himself. He watched the dead being piled high at the base of the hill. Soon they would be engulfed in flames that would burn orange like the sunset sky.

It had been a long-fought battle to capture the city of Serene, one that had raged for three days with many losses on both sides.

Now, the final stronghold of the Taki warriors had been taken, Marrok could return home. The offer of land and spoils in this foreign continent was not for him. He'd had enough of the humid heat and insects that bled you dry whilst you slept. It had been two years since he had left his homeland of Aurora to fight for his King in this crusade. He had gained many brothers, brave men he would trust with his life, but many had fallen only to provide sustenance for the vultures that often circled above. Separated from his remaining comrades during this final battle, Marrok hoped they had survived and feared they had not.

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The journey home was long and arduous, especially the voyage across the Cathon Ocean. Marrok did not fare well, suffering from sickness. He did not recover until his sturdy leather boots made contact with the solidity of the ground in the port of Fewton.

Glad to lose sight of the sea, Marrok made his way into the narrow streets of the town to seek lodgings. He carried a large leather bag over his shoulder with ease. The early evening air was fresh, tinged with the salt of the sea. Clouds gathered above, threatening rain, so he quickened his step.

Turning into another street, he halted abruptly as a drunken man of later years fell onto cobbles in front of him. An innkeeper stood in a nearby doorway, shouting abuse at the drunk who stumbled as he tried to get up. Marrok moved aside and continued to walk towards the center of the port town. He only achieved a short distance, when two young boys ran into him as they looked back to sneer at an old woman who was attempting to chase them.

"Stop 'em thieving ___ " the old woman bent over, her breath escaping her.Marrok dropped his bag and reached out, grabbed one of the boys by his shirt, and swung him around. The boy cried out and tried to break loose, but Marrok tightened his grip and dragged him across the floor towards the old woman, allowing the other boy to escape.

"I think this woman wants a word with you," said Marrok in a deep and steady voice. The boy spat at Marrok's face causing saliva to drip down his cheek. Marrok raised his hand to slap the boy but thought better of it and just wiped his face with his sleeve.

The old woman cursed as she hobbled closer to them, her ankle visibly swelling. "They stole my charm." Her long straggly hair fell into her eyes. She clawed it back behind her ears with long, grubby fingernails.

"I dun nuthin'," shouted the boy, squirming under Marrok's grip.

"Let's empty your pockets and see, shall we?" Marrok suggested.

"Get off me," screamed the boy as Marrok lifted him into the air.

The woman drew closer and reached out to search the boy. He tried to kick her away, but despite her bereft and weak appearance, she nimbly dodged his flailing limbs and retrieved a dark, blood-red stone from his pocket. She smiled gratefully at Marrok as she tentatively stepped back.

Marrok put the boy on the ground and swiped at his ear before the lad made haste and sped down the street where the other had escaped.

"Thank you, stranger," purred the old woman, narrowing her eyes as she looked at Marrok with interest.